


The Intricate Language of Respect

by Caillieach



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Gen, I have been informed that a 5h writing process does not count as a 'speed' prompt anymore OTL, Peace Negotiations, Post-Ending, Zargabaath's actions have caught Ondore's interest, a curious Marquis is a slightly nosy Marquis, budding mutual respect, enemies to...what?, exploring unexplored character dynamics is fun, this was meant to be a speed prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24152710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caillieach/pseuds/Caillieach
Summary: How do you play nice with a former enemy you're now supposed to work with?On the eve of peace, Halim Ondore finds himself beyond intrigued by Judge Magister Zargabaath's actions during the final battle. Perhaps there is more to the man underneath the fearsome armour than he thought?Only one way to find out.
Relationships: Halim Ondore IV & Zargabaath (Ivalice Alliance)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	The Intricate Language of Respect

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:**
> 
> _All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners, here: Square Enix. Any possible future original characters & plots are my own. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended. I do not earn money with this._
> 
> * * *
> 
> Edited by the wonderful [MeinNameIstJette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeinNameIstJette). Thank you! :*
> 
> * * *
> 
> This is the result of watching the Ending cutscenes right before going to bed - a silly idea that somehow turned into this.
> 
> It was meant to be an entry for a weeky speed prompt challenge on the Ivalice Alliance Discord, but alas, I have been reliably informed that this brain fart is far too long for it and, given that it took me about five hours to write this, does not qualify as a _speed_ prompt anymore. So, why not post it here instead, right?
> 
> Anyone who knows me knows that I always go for side/unpopular characters, but this time I actually surprised myself. I do like both Ondore and Zargabaath, but I've never paid much attention to them. Until I rewatched the ending scenes half asleep and found myself paying attention to things I never noticed before. OTL
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy! Feedback is, as always, much appreciated!
> 
> * * *

It is over.

Finally, after years and years of war and too much death and grief on both sides, it is finally over. He can scarcely believe it.

_'Ivalice looks to the horizon. A new day has dawned. We are free.'_

Even over the intercom, Lady Ashe sounds as clear and strong as she does in person, her relief almost palpable in her voice. Halim sighs in relief, tired eyes fixed on the magnificent sunset outside the Garland's windows. 

_Free_.

They are finally free. Dalmasca more so than Bhujerba as his own city has maintained its neutral status stubbornly, at least in the public's eyes, but still. With the young Lord Larsa likely assuming the Empire's throne...perhaps there would finally be a chance to shed the Archadian shackles Vayne has put on him for good.

He’s tired, so tired. Exhausted, really. As the gunfire lighting up the rosy evening sky dies down outside, Halim Ondore sits down heavily in the Captain's chair, suddenly feeling every single one of his sixty-one years. Gods help him, he is too old to fight a war on the frontline, nevermind financing and leading the Resistance from the shadows behind his jailer's back.

But of course, it is too soon to hope for rest.

Rest never comes when one wishes for it the most. War has always been a messy business and the Bahamut still hangs in the sky like the herald of doom it is...but for how long?

With mounting horror and a sense of crippling helplessness, Halim watches as the Bahamut's glossair rings begin to fall, triggering it's slow descent towards the Royal city of Rabanastre and it's innocent people, doomed to perish before they taste their newly won freedom as it seems.

His quiet groan of despair goes thankfully unheard as the beep signalling an incoming message demands everyone’s attention. Promptly, his communications officer tears his eyes away from the impending catastrophe. A ragtag band of desperate Resistance fighters they may be but they've been trained well.

"Sir, a message from the Alexander!"

There is no time to despair, not yet, despite the horror happening right before their eyes. Halim pulls himself together.

"Take it."

The intercom crackles again, then a tinny voice fills the Garland's cockpit.

_"This is Judge Zargabaath, Captain of the Alexander, flagship of the 12th Dalmascan fleet of the Archadian Army. I address all ships in Rabanastre's airspace. The Bahamut must not be allowed to fall on the city of Rabanastre! We are preparing to ram her! Do not interfere."_

His breath hitches, the implications of such an action outweighing his surprise at the enemy's words.

"Madness…!" 

* * *

The chandelier's bright light breaks itself in the myriad of tiny air bubbles in his sparkling wine, effectively distorting his gold-tinged view of the man he has only ever seen in full armour. Pursing his lips deep in thought, he concentrates on the light, sweet taste of the Tchitan wine on his tongue, so different from the heady Bhujerban Mhadu he's used to. Absentmindedly, he takes another sip. 

Tilting his glass slightly to see if it improves the visual, Halim Ondore eventually lowers it so he can observe the lone figure standing on his own by one of the large ballroom windows. 

No doubt looking upon what could have been his fate.

Rabanastre is almost as familiar to him as Bhujerba is considering how much time he has spent here during the failed peace negotiations years ago. And even before that, having been close friends with King Raminas and his family for what feels like forever. The palace with all its winding corridors and countless alcoves has long since ceased to feel labyrinthine to him, a side effect of one too many games of hide and seek with his then still very young 'niece'.

Tearing his gaze away from the tall man he's been observing for far too long, Halim's eyes find Lady Ashe easily, now the as of yet uncrowned Queen of Dalmasca, and his gaze softens. She's come a long way, his brave but often brash little girl. Given time - and his occasional counsel should she accept it -, she will grow into a very fine ruler. One who will shape Ivalice for generations, of that he has no doubt.

Deeply engrossed in conversation with Archadia's young new Emperor, Larsa Solidor, it is not difficult to imagine a brighter future for Ivalice. Finally, after years of war and unrest, she might get to know peace again, the younger generations working together beyond borders to make it so. What a relief that young Larsa proved to be so different from his late older brother although he has no doubt that the boy is no less dangerous than Vayne was, only in a different way.

It is a nice idea, lasting peace. Reassuring and bearing a hope Halim has not really believed in anymore towards the end of the war even though he never stopped fighting. First in the shadows, then openly despite the consequences.

Without conscious thought, his gaze is drawn to the tall man again, still keeping to himself amidst the banquet celebrating the end of the war and the beginning of peace negotiations. He doesn't have to know the palace's and city's layout as well as he does to know what lies in clear view in the distance outside the window he’s staring out of.

The wreckage of the Sky Fortress Bahamut.

Tons of cold, now shredded steel that would have become this man's tomb if he had gone through with his plan as the battle died down around them and the Bahamut threatened to level Rabanastre to the ground just a week ago. The mere thought of what could have been, how many civilians could have been dead on top of the already devastating casualties they have suffered anyway, sends an ice-cold shiver down his spine, a dread Halim had thought forgotten briefly settling in his gut before he reminds himself that it did not come to pass.

Should Balthier and Fran have survived - and he has a feeling they had -, he'd forgive them their first two transgressions of the law on Bhujerban soil as a token of gratitude for saving an entire city of innocents at risk of their own lives. Maybe three if he was feeling particularly lenient. Halim smiles. No doubt the two would make good use of it.

Navigating the crowd takes a while, far too many guests wanting to have a word with him, but eventually, his feet bring him to the one guest who has held his attention for most of the evening. He comes to a stop just a few feet away. It is instinct alone that has Halim waving one of the waiters nearer to discard his now empty glass and pick up not one but two new ones before he approaches the man. He doesn't stop to think about the 'why'.

"It is unusual to see a Judge Magister without his full set of armour." Halim announces himself, then moves to stand beside the man, gaze following the other man’s out of the window. "Quite a novelty some may say."

Silence greets him following his words, unsurprisingly, but he wouldn't be such an excellent diplomat if he didn't know how to be patient. Or annoyingly persistent as Raminas called it once. Again, Halim smiles as the fond memory crosses his mind. Whatever one might want to call it, in the end, his _patience_ is rewarded.

"We are not at war anymore." The man's voice sounds less tinny sans the hideous helmet, Halim notices. Much more pleasant. "One could argue that seeing one such as myself in full armour at a peace celebration could be taken as an insult considering Archadian and Dalmascan history." A pause before the man continues in a lower voice. "I do not wish to add further insult to injury." 

Outwardly, nothing gives him away, he’s too used to concealing his thoughts from prying eyes. But inwardly, Halim raises an eyebrow in surprise. Those are unexpected words - wise, certainly spot on considering the widely spread hatred for the Empire's elite in Dalmasca, but entirely unexpected. For the second time in less than two weeks, he realises that despite their past, despite the fact that until recently they were enemies, he could perhaps respect this man given enough time. 

The man's allegiance and many deeds in the Empire's name notwithstanding, his latest actions have led Halim to believe that this Judge Magister, the last one alive, is indeed different from his brethren although how much remains yet to be seen.

"It was quite a noble sacrifice you were willing to make." he says softly without clarifying what he is referring to. The other man would know without a doubt. It is a statement not meant to be understood as anything but for what it is. In this, there is no judgement to be passed. "Foolish some would argue, but brave indeed."

The Archadian snorts, but if he reads him right, it’s less in amusement but...derision? 

No, that doesn't seem quite like it.

"There is no bravery in war, we both know this, Marquis. Enough innocents have died. Between mine and my crews few and Rabanastre's many lives, the answer seemed quite clear to me, that is all there is to it."

Another surprise, and quite an interesting one. Halim hums thoughtfully, contemplating the man's words. But no matter how he looks at it, his...curiosity - yes, that is what it is -, his curiosity is not yet satisfied. If anything, it has been piqued even more.

"A noble mindset, certainly, being ready to sacrifice one's life for that of the many. And the enemy no less." He repeats his earlier words slowly, thoughtfully. They may sound accusatory but there is no heat behind them, only interest and the inexplicable wish to understand this man's actions. Something Halim doesn’t quite understand himself yet. "You will have to excuse me but given Archadia’s ruthless warfare and your role in it, I find this hard to believe."

Tearing his eyes away from the Bahamut's hulking remains, eerily lit from within due to a few still smoldering fires, Halim turns his head to take his companion's face in. Even though he means no offense, his words weren't kind ones and would certainly sting. But despite his extensive experience in negotiations, even difficult ones, Halim finds that he cannot read the man’s impassive face as easily.

Pale green eyes meet his, obviously guarded but surprisingly not offended. Or at least Halim doesn’t think so.

"War has a tendency to bring out the worst in us and I have done many things I regret in the name of a country I once swore an oath to protect. Being loyal to her does not mean one cannot be a decent person however entangled in opposing duties."

Surprised, Halim regards the younger man thoughtfully. This, he hasn’t expected. At all. Not the unexpected show of...remorse? Nor the gentle rebuke because he has no doubt that is what it was. It would be a shocking statement if not for the fact that he’s aware that it would be unwise to regard the enemy as just a faceless mass of adversaries when they are only people with hopes and dreams, _personalities_ , too. A slow, tiny smile is tugging on his lips, asking to be allowed to unfold as he repeats the man’s words in his mind again. 

"Well said. My apologies, I did not mean to offend." He offers, face marginally less guarded but not yet sporting the curious smile. "I, too, know something of acting in a country's interests at the cost of my own conscience. It can be a heavy burden to bear."

Oh, could it ever? 

The past few years caught in an act of balance between duty and personal allegiance have certainly left him exhausted if not to say weary to the bones. He really was too old for walking the line like this for so long and it shows in the gauntness of the face that greets him in the mirror every morning. But….a glance at the other man’s salt-and-pepper hair that doesn’t quite fit his still rather smooth features hints at the toll the war and its difficult decisions have taken on him, too. Or at least it seems likely to Halim.

“No offense taken. I can see why you said what you said. And you are right.” The Judge Magister mutters, a curious hint of the same battle weariness he himself has felt for a while and yet did not expect in this man audible in his voice. “Perhaps, this peace will prevent those who come after us from making similar experiences.”

Too tense shoulders shrug, the Archadian's posture betraying his unease of being here. It could be the fact that he’s technically on what used to be enemy territory until recently, or perhaps it's the conversation they are having, who knows? In hindsight, it might have been a bit tactless to bring his companion's near self-sacrifice up, no matter that it’s the truth or that it would have been for the greater good. An apology would be appropriate, this is certainly no acceptable topic in polite society but…

"I can certainly drink to this, Judge Magister." Halim offers the other man one of the glasses he's held for the entirety of their conversation instead, allowing the infant respect he’s beginning to feel for him despite their unfortunate history to be seen in his eyes. 

A moment's hesitation, then the Archadian unfolds his arms - until then crossed protectively in front of his chest - and accepts the offered drink albeit with a slightly mystified look in his eyes. Amused, Halim considers the other man, openly this time, then decides that their future dealings with each other would certainly be easier the sooner he starts seeing the man behind the armour.

"I have been appointed the mediator in these negotiations, so I expect we will be seeing a lot of each other over the coming months. According to my information, you are going to act as Archadia's negotiator whenever His Excellency Lord Larsa is needed elsewhere, are you not?"

A nod coupled with a slightly weary gaze is all the answer he gets this time, but Halim won't be deterred. No, recent events and the feeling of being able to learn to respect this man still on the forefront of his mind, he offers his former enemy his hand in perhaps not friendship but the chance of a mutually pleasant cooperation from here on out.

"I find that titles often complicate things. We know who we are of course, but we are at the cusp of a new era, so permit me to introduce myself again." He explains, dry but friendly amusement coating his voice. "Halim Ondore, pleased to meet you under better circumstances than the last."

Finally, prompted by the pale green eyes slightly narrowed in surprise, he allows that smile he's been fighting for a while now to unfurl. And lo-and-behold, it seems to do the trick. A strong, warm and calloused hand clasps his own.

"Ondore, then." The Archadian's handshake is as firm as Halim thought it would be, hinting at the confidence and strength of character he's begun to see recently. "Balthazar Zargabaath, Archadia’s soon-to-be part-time ambassador to Dalmasca."

Zargabaath releases his hand and raises the wine glass he's been handed with the other, one eyebrow raised questioningly. Halim accepts the invitation readily and clinks their glasses to seal the deal. "Here's to a successful cooperation."

"And to peace and Ivalice's future." Zargabaath adds before he follows suit and takes a sip.

The wine tastes sweet and tickles in Halim’s mouth, not unlike the excited anticipation he has been feeling for the new chapter of Ivalice's history that is being written now.

Tonight, they will bury the hatchet and drink together, doing their best to forget their past animosity to establish a new rapport between their countries. And tomorrow…

Tomorrow, a new day will dawn, bringing new possibilities with it.


End file.
